


The Shadow of Loyalty

by mybluebucketofsnow



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Agatha is August, Baz wears spectacles, Evil August, Faculty of Magic, Faculty of Martial Arts, Familiars, M/M, Simon can't cast the magickal sword, Simon falls for Baz but he doesn't know, Some angst, Watford is a bit different, studying in the library
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23155798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybluebucketofsnow/pseuds/mybluebucketofsnow
Summary: A fantasy-setting Familiars AU.Simon was discovered by Mage and dragged to Watford. But this Watford is different from canon. Simon is Warrior and Baz is Magician.In a world where he can't even protect himself, can he expect to protect someone he likes? And what if the person he likes has a dark secret on his own?As far from the magic world as I am, I still know about Familiars. Everybody knows about them, even Normals. There is an old tradition at Watford that the best student from the faculty of Magic and the best student from the faculty of Martial Arts should end up together. And the stronger they are as a Magician and a Warrior the stronger their Familiar bond will be.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 31
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire for being beta for this story. You told me to "tune down the angst", so I did :D

I had to run away from the class, simply because I couldn’t stand it anymore. It’s my second week at this damn school and each day is worse than the other. I can’t fight, I can’t fight at all. At least not as good as the other students, who are all experienced and fast and all of them have a magickal sword, while I have to manage with the regular non-magickal one. Apparently you have to be from a first-class magickal background to know how to cast it. But that’s not my case — I’m just an orphan with no magickal blood whatsoever.

I can’t even go through one practice without a bleeding nose or a bruised eye or the humiliation of being completely defeated. This time was no different. August provoked me with “bastard” and “stinky Normal” and I ended up rushing at him with my dum sword. Of course I was the one crushed by him instead just a few seconds later.

“Don’t even try next time,” August smirked. He kicked me with his boot in the stomach and I rolled over and barfed in the dry ground in front of everyone.

It was embarrassing. It was awful and it just kept on happening.

If it wasn’t for the Mage discovering me a few months ago and promising my fosters the sky full of diamonds I would never end up at Watford. I wouldn’t even pass the main entrance gates, because you need a special kind of spell to be cast all over you to be able to see them.

Today is my second week at Watford, at the faculty of Martial Art, and it’s already clear that Mage made a huge mistake. I’m not worth it. I should have been a warrior — a _fighter_ — but all I keep doing is lose.

I lean against the wall and exhale loudly. My arm hurts and I’m hungry, but at least my nose doesn’t bleed anymore. I remove my sleeve away from it, helplessly looking around.

To my surprise, I’m not the only one outside of the Hall of Swords. There is another person a few steps away standing near the gates. I stare at his black and red robe for a moment and take a step back. Even I know what this robe means — this is a magician.

Watford has two faculties, the Martial Art and Magic. And even though in theory we share the same premises, I never had a chance to see a magician so close before. I always imagined them as different spices — proud, beautiful and a bit scary. Merlin, they are the masters of magic after all.

The magician is tall and slender and he holds a stack of books under his arm. His hair is shoulder length and his nose is a bit too long with a pair of spectacles right on top of it. He’s not what one might call handsome, but there is something about him. Each time I look his way I find him more and more cute. Maybe it’s how he shifts from one foot to another uncomfortably, or how he tightly presses his books to himself or maybe the way he looks under his feet slightly frowning not noticing anything else. It’s this hidden beauty of sorts that is so mesmerizing to me.

I wonder if he’s waiting for someone. There must be a reason he’s standing near the Hall of Swords after all.

I clear my throat. “The class is not over yet,” I say. I’m surprised with my own boldness and the fact that I could actually make myself _speak_ to him.

Magician flinches with surprise at the sound of my voice and turns my way. His eyes behind his spectacles are focusing on me. They are grey. His eyes are grey and in this moment that’s the only thing I can see.

“Then why are you here?” He says and frowns slightly. My breath hitches. An actual magician is talking to me. Me — Simon Snow — an orphan, a nobody.

“I had to leave earlier.” I say. The recent chain of events flush through my mind — my defeat, my humiliation, August’s evil grin. None of that feels like something I can share without looking pathetic.

“In other words you are skipping the class.” The magician says disapprovingly. He shifts the stack of books from one hand to another.

“And what if I am?” I snap at him. My voice sounds bitter and I take a step back.

“Won’t your teacher get angry?” He arches his eyebrow.

“Mr Green? He is a substitute teacher and he will get angry with me anyway. You see, I’m a humiliation to the Warriors of Watford.” I say with a shrug, “In other words, they say I’m here by mistake.”

He looks at me upside down.

“It certainly seems that way,” he says coldly and my heart falls down. “Bleeding nose and a dirty warrior robe. Are you an orphan that Mage brought in?”

My foolish idea that maybe we can become friends disappears right on the spot. I know what his look means. It’s the same as the one August was giving me when I punched him for the first time. It’s exactly how they all look at me _still_ — like I’m nothing but an empty spot, like I don’t even exist. And maybe that’s true, but I will be damned before I will let anyone say it out loud.

I take out my sword and point it at the stranger in front of me. “I might be an orphan and this sword is not magickal,” I say, “but I will do anything to make you forget that it isn’t.”

Magician smirks. “You don’t even have a magickal sword, but you’re still skipping class?”

I clench my teeth, my arm holding the sword is shaking. In the next moment, I feel a magic spell that snaps my arm down. My sword falls on the ground and my right arm goes completely numb.

“Merlin and Morgana! Was it real magic?” I exclaim, my limb hanging down like an external addition to my body I have no control over. But I don’t care about that at all. It was bloody magic there striking me. Not only was I able to see it, I felt it with my whole body. “Did you just cast a spell on me?”

“It’s just basic protection for every student at Watford,” Magician says indifferently. “Nothing special. Your hand will get back to normal in an hour.”

I think about today. Where was this basic protection when I was getting my arse kicked?

“Doesn’t work when warriors fight against each other,” Magician says quickly as if reading my mind.

 _Of course, it doesn’t_ , I nod to myself bitterly. It’s a surprise I was still doubting that something at Watford _might_ be fair.

“I never saw real magic before, I mean except for the magickal sword, but I don’t have that one anyway, so-” I make myself shut up and take a deep breath. “What do magicians do exactly?”

He frowns. “The same as you. We learn spells. We study. We read. And _yes_ , reading books is of the same importance as waving your sword.”

I blink at him with surprise. I never assumed that being a magician is any less important than being a warrior. Is it how he feels here in Watford? As if he is somehow _less_? I wonder who was that person who had told him that.

“I think magic is awesome,” I say sincerely, but he still looks annoyed, so I quickly add just to change the mood. “Do you know a spell to produce some food?”

Magicians' nostrils flared with anger. “No, I don’t know any spells to produce _food_. I am not a _cook._ ”

“That’s ok,” I say quickly. Maybe he doesn’t know that many spells. But it doesn’t matter, I don’t know a lot of things either. Somehow I have a sparkle of hope that he can still be my friend after all. “We can just go to the diner together.”

“Are you asking me to lunch?” The magician looks at me suspiciously, his eyes narrow. “Why?”

“Because I have no idea how this dining token system works and you still own me for this.” I point at my lifeless arm and rub it slightly.

“Stay still,” he says. He puts his books on parapet fishing out a wand from his pouch. The actual bloody wand. I stare at it as if it’s a snake ready to bite me. 

I take a step back involuntarily. Suddenly I remember all the stories about magicians that kids at the orphanage used to scare one another with before going to sleep. “What- What’s happening?” I ask, my voice shivering.

Magician rolls his eyes. “I prefer not to owe anything to anyone.” He says, his voice stern. He points his wand at me and I squeeze my eyes shut. I expect a hit, a pain, I expect anything, but not this — a warm feeling gradually spreading through my numb arm from the shoulder to the tips of my fingers. 

My arm slowly comes to life and I open my eyes. “Better?” He asks.

I nod. I want to say thank you, but I can’t. I’m still in shock. This was a _real_ magickal spell this time.

Magician narrows his eyes. “There is blood on your sleeve.” He says, pointing at my arm.

“Um- Yes.” I wriggle under his stare. I remember how he called my robe dirty before and my cheeks flush. “I will go wash it out.”

“No need,” He says. He points his wand at me again. It takes all of my will to not flinch this time.

 **_“Clean as a Whistle,”_ ** He casts and I glare at my sleeve speechless. The stain disappears. Suddenly the reality hits me. He’s a real bloody Magician and I am a _nobody_. How did I even dare to talk to him before?

“If you don’t know how the diner tokens work then how did you feed yourself all this time?” He asks eventually, as if nothing had happened, as if he didn’t just cast _two_ magickal spells right in front of me.

“I was just bringing a few pieces of bread with me each morning,” I say, looking down.

“And you don’t eat anything else for the whole day?” Magician asks his eyes sparkling with anger and I think not for the first time that I wouldn’t want to be his enemy. “Why didn’t they show you how to use tokens?”

I shrug. “Nobody really talks to me here.”

I remember August and his gang again, how it felt to be their target every day. How I was just barfing on the ground in front of everyone, how they were all laughing at me. Somehow while I was talking to Magician, I forgot how shitty everything around me is.

“So you naturally decided to starve,” Magician says. “You could have asked any teacher.”

He quickly picks up his books and moves in the direction of the dining hall. Since most warriors are on practice the dining hall is half empty with only a few magicians sitting along wooden tables enjoying their trays with food.

“Get the tray and your token,” Magician says and I quickly follow his instructions. “You have to put your token on the tray and say ‘dinner is served.’ Then you have to close your eyes and imagine the food that you want to have.”

“Is it magic?” I say, feeling my excitement rising.

“It’s merely a trivial spell that anyone can manage.”

“Even a non-mage?” I ask carefully.

“They wouldn’t bring you here if you hadn’t any power,” He says, but I just shrug it away. I’ve told that same thing to myself many times before, but each time it sounded less and less convincing.

Yet I follow his instructions and put a token on the tray trying to imagine the hot bowl of fish soup and a thick piece of bread.

When I open my eyes there is indeed some food on my tray. I look at it with astonishment. Merlin and Morgana. It is the first thing produced by me. By _my_ magic. I try out the soup but almost immediately spit it out, it’s cold and a bit sour, and yes, it does smell like fish, but in some weird disgusting way. 

“Not bad for the first time,” Magician says with a grin. He casts his own food on his tray, while I make myself swallow another spoon. “My first week at Watford the food I imagined was not very edible either.”

“How was it for you?” I ask after a pause. “ I mean, your first week here.”

“It was tolerable… Till one day a group of Warriors locked me in a closet overnight.”

I stop with a spoon half-way to my mouth. “Why did they do it?”

“Oh, just a beautiful old Watford tradition. To remind magicians that they are weaker. Happens every year. I was just unlucky back then. Didn’t know that many spells yet.”

“Who was it?” I ask, my voice low. I think I might know the answer and it makes my heart beat with anger.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” He takes off his spectacles and rubs his nose bridge with a frown. “That person has changed. We all have changed.”

My arse, he has changed. If we talk about August here (and I am almost certain that we are), he could only have changed for the worse. If this is what happens to everyone, if this is what Watford does to you, I would rather choose to leave, then to ‘change’.

“I hate it here,” I mutter.

Magician raises his eyebrow. “Stop skipping your classes. Learn how to cast a magickal sword. Study. There is no easy way.”

 _Easy way._ I almost snort. It’s enough to take one look at his silk robe with golden threads on the rim of his sleeve and guess he never had it in a hard way, _ever_.

But then I frown at myself. After all, I have no idea what his struggles might be. He doesn’t look that happy in here either. I gaze at him carefully, there are dark circles under his eyes and the tray of food that he cast is still in front of him, untouched.

He puts his spectacles back and stands up. “Unfortunately, I have to leave.”

“But-” I stop. I have no idea how to make him stay longer. I wonder if I can ask him what his name is or where I can find him later. “You didn’t even touch your food,” I say instead.

“This is for you.” He pushes his tray to me. “You have to eat more.”

I barely have a chance to thank him before he disappears. I pull his tray closer and go for his soup. It’s a simple chicken broth with noodles, but it tastes amazing. It’s the best food I had in months, or I let myself think so because I can almost taste his magic inside of it.

***

Next day before my practice I try my best to blend-in inside the changing room. After all, yesterday wasn’t that bad. I’ve learned how to cast my own food with the help of a magickal token and I met a magician and we talked. And he helped me. Even though he knew who I was, he still helped me.

It’s almost like today I am much more motivated about my life at Watford. Maybe, just maybe, I could try to manage here for a little bit longer.

August stays on the other end of the room surrounded by his minions. He looks smug and confident as he tells a story about his Familiar and how yesterday he helped August to scare off a few minors, that were not as obedient to August as he wished them to be.

As far from the magic world as I am, I still know about Familiars. Everybody knows about them, even Normals. There is an old tradition at Watford that the best student from the faculty of Magic and the best student from the faculty of Martial Arts should end up together. And the stronger they are as a Magician and a Warrior the stronger their Familiar bond will be.

And since August is the best Warrior on our faculty (which is unfair to the whole humanity, but sadly true), his Familiar must be the best Magician. I try to imagine what kind of a monster he might be. Based on the story August has just told his Familiar was helping him torture some minors yesterday in the Wavering Wood. Usually, Familiars are similar, or they become similar eventually. And if August is such an arsehole, his Familiar should be the same. 

“They were begging us to stop,” August says meanwhile, his voice gets louder and louder, “but who cares about their pleads? I just ordered him to cast more spells to make them suffer.”

“Did he?” One of his friends asks.

August shrugs. “He does anything I tell him to. What do you think?”

I turn away and try not to listen. I’m really not interested in ugly details of August’s twisted relationships. To know someone like August exists is enough, I don’t want to imagine that there might be another human being who might be equally awful.

“He might be a strong magician, but he is so plain-looking,” another voice from the crowd says. “How can you date someone so ugly?”

“I don’t care how ugly he is as long as he is from a powerful family. And I don’t have to do much to keep him under my thumb.” August smirks. “After all, it wasn’t hard to find someone prettier for the night to have fun.”

Everybody around laughs and I jerk my head up. I was definitely underestimating his shittiness. Who would cheat on their own Familiar? Even if he is awful, or dark or ugly. Most Warriors would kill for the opportunity to have a bond like that with any magician. 

August catches my glare and scowls. “Is it my imagination or does it suddenly stink in here?” He says. I don’t even consider it as an insult, I heard much worse things at the orphanage after all. Much, much worse things. I stand up and look his way. 

“Whoever your Familiar might be,” I say. “I pity him for dealing with the scum like you.”

“You are a worthless orphan and you are calling _me_ a scum?” August laughs. “What Normal like you can possibly know about Familiars?”

“Call me Normal as much as you like,” I say. “But at least I am not a bugger like you. I would never cheat on my Familiar.”

“Of course you won’t because you would never have one.” He takes a few steps toward me and leans on the wall, his posture relaxed. “You can meet mine, I don’t mind. I can even arrange it for you. Outside Watford in the Wavering Wood at night.” He laughs a bit more. “But I don’t think you will enjoy it.”

I try to hold his gaze. Of course, I’m afraid. This is magic we are talking about and probably dark magic too (what other kinds of magic might _his_ Familiar practice?) But I try to push those thoughts away. I think about my magician instead. The one I met yesterday and who shared his meal with me. I wonder if I could meet him again. I hope I can.

August’s magickal sword flashes in his hand and the smallest swim of its power is enough to push me to the ground. But that’s nothing new, I’ve been here at the ground before. I know, it doesn’t matter, because someday it will be another way around. I try to protect my head with my hands, but August just steps over me and leaves the room.

At least he doesn’t pay attention to me after that and I can focus on classes. The Mage is absent again (he travels a lot) and the substitute teacher doesn’t care that much. He shows us a few fencing techniques and separates us into pairs to practice.

Surprisingly my sparring partner is decent. He is not from August’s gang, or at least I never saw him with them. Even though he has a magickal sword he still pretends as he and I can fight like equals. He doesn’t put much magic into his moves, so I end up being able to fence for real.

After the lesson I rush out, hoping my magician will be outside the Hall of Swords, but he’s not there. Nor is he in the dining hall. I feel disappointment, but also a relief. It is easier to give up completely, then to hope that something good might ever happen at this damn school.

I try to cast food the same way as the Magician taught me yesterday (I don’t dare to call him ‘ _mine’_ even inside of my head anymore). The soup is cold and salty, but at least it doesn’t stink like yesterday and I’m too hungry to care about the taste.

Yet, when I go back in the evening to the inn, where my fosters live, I’m hungry again. The inn is small and cheap. It doesn’t have a very good reputation and is usually used by couples as paid per-hour rooms. My fosters are not bad people, they just don’t care much for anything aside from this inn. But their business doesn’t bring much money, and one year ago they decided to adopt me so that I can help around.

When Mage was asking my fosters to allow me to go to Watford, he tried to convince them that it’s an honour to have their son as a Warrior, but they were still hesitant. They did believe him, sure, but they were also in a desperate need for a pair of extra hands to help. In the end, they made me deal. I can go to Watford to study, but each evening I have to come back to the inn and do my share of duties.

Back then I was so eager to try my luck at Watford, I could have agreed to anything. But now I know what it means. It means after the exhausting day at school full of defeat and fights I have to come back to the inn and work for at least four hours, scrubbing the floors, changing and washing the stained sheets, bowing my head to the rear guests passing by in the corridor.

Watford is hell, but this is a different kind of hell too. My fosters never smile. They are just too tired to do that.

“Start with the second floor,” My foster mother says and gives me a dirty bucket. I fill it with muddy water from the barrel and add some soap. When I go upstairs I push all the thoughts about Watford away. That way it’s easier. At least at this inn I don't have to pretend and I don’t have to try.

As I scrub the floors I try not to think about the cute magician. He doesn’t belong with me here. Not even in my thoughts. It’s better to let him go. Deep down I always knew that we were never meant to be friends.


	2. Chapter 2

After a whole week of hopeless desperation, I run into Magician in the Dining Hall. All through this week, I tried my best not to look for him wherever I go. I simply didn’t allow myself to do so. Because there are dreams and there is a reality where things are the way they are. And in this reality, I don’t expect much. 

Still, I don’t skip classes anymore. Maybe I am a failure, but I can try at least a little bit while I am still here. While I am still part of Watford, of this magical world where I won’t ever fit in. 

First few moments I just stare at him, not sure what to do. He sits alone in the corner surrounded by books, deep down in his studies. One week is enough to forget how the person looks. I forgot how slender he is and that his hair has a slight wave and the way he touches the frame of his spectacles from time to time. But also he is the same as I remember him to be - outstanding, cool and unreachable.

He writes something with his quill, biting on his lower lip slightly as if he was annoyed with whatever he is writing down. When he tucks the strand of hair behind his ear my eyes follow his perfectly defined jawline, down his neck to the tight collar of his robe, till I make myself stop and look away.

There is nobody around and I sit opposite from him, putting my empty tray on the table.

“I said I don’t want to talk to you,” he starts with irritation, but then he looks up and notices me. “Ah, sorry.” He says, his shoulders slightly relaxing. “I thought you were somebody else.” 

His eyes travel over my face with a question as if he can’t really understand why I have to sit near and intrude his personal space. Has he forgotten already how we’ve met the first time?

“Here,” I quickly reach down for my pouch and take out a token. “Thank you for giving me your lunch last time.”

He takes a token slowly flipping it between his fingers. He frowns, calculating something in his mind, his eyes piercing throw me, his expression unreadable. I wonder if he will tell me to go away, to mind my own business or if he will simply give me a silent treatment till I will sod off myself. I clench my teeth, staring at his fingers - they are long and slender, with old and new spots of ink on them, that I somehow find adorable.

“Did you learn how to use it?” He says finally, putting the token down.

“Not exactly,” I push my hand throw my hair, feeling his eyes still following my every move, till he abruptly looks down, a hint of red flushing in his cheeks.

“Then practice,” he pushes the token back to me, not looking at me anymore.

It’s my turn to examine his face. He looks tired. There are dark circles under his eyes visible even behind his spectacles. And he is thin. I wonder if he eats at all.

“What is your favourite dish?” I ask.

He shots me a glare. “Vegetable casserole.”

“Right,” I nod, trying to hide that I have no bloody idea what this dish is. “I only know how to do simple dishes so far. I can cast you a chicken broth.”

He reclines to the back of his chair crossing his arms over his chest. “Who said you need to feed me?”

I shrug, trying to look nonchalant. “This is a dinner hall and you use it as a library.” I glare over his books scattered all over the table.

“Any problem with that?” He raises an eyebrow.

I shake my head slightly. “You study a lot.”

“Opposite to the common belief,” he says, his voice tensed, “magic is not only about talent and being born into the right family.” 

I look at him carefully, I want to say that I don’t believe in that at all, that I can see he is not only that. But I am not sure he is interested in hearing my opinion, what do I know about the magical world after all? Instead, I lean on the table and after a pause say in a quiet way. “I didn’t see you around all week long.”

His eyes shot at me and then he immediately looks away, but for that brief moment, I can see that I caught him out of guard. He adjusts his spectacles nervously, biting on his lip. Finally, he takes them off completely and puts them down on a table.

“I was in the library,” he says briefly, still avoiding looking at me. “I go there before and after classes.”

I nod. I was right after all. He is not very good with magic since he needs to study so bloody much. But that’s ok, in a way, he is the same as me. We both need to try more than anybody else.

I take a token and put it on the tray. I still suck with this spell, but at least two days ago the soup was more or less tolerable to eat. I take a deep breath in, hoping I won’t embarrass myself.

While I mumble the spell, thinking about the first time we met and how he cast a spell on my arm and how warm his magic felt. I think about the soup he left me and how tasty it was. I try to remember the smallest details of flavour, smell and texture.

Soon I can feel the real smell of the chicken broth. I open my eyes and look at the bowl of soup in front of me. It looks good, it looks very similar to what it is supposed to look like. My mouth waters, but I still push the tray in his direction.

Magician takes the bowl and steers it with the spoon. Without spectacles, his eyes look puffy and much bigger than I thought they actually are. He stares at food a bit unfocused and when he finally takes a sip from the spoon I hold my breath. He shots me a surprised glare.

“Not bad for the first week,” he says, scooping another spoon.

I feel my mouth stretching into a smile. “Does it mean that you like it?”

Maybe it’s a hot soup, maybe something else, but there is a bit of colour in his cheeks now. “I didn’t say I like it,” he says stubbornly. “But it’s tolerable.”

I grin a bit more. I watch as he eats wondering if it’s possible that he’s single. Because if he had a boyfriend, that person would certainly not allow his loved one to starve like that and to sit in a diner all by himself. 

“By the way, I am Simon Snow,” I stretch my hand over the table, finally realizing that I never had a chance to properly introduce myself before.

“I know what your name is,” Magician says. My hand stays in the air a few seconds more until I finally pull it away. I slide my palm over my robes under the table. I feel a bit cold inside. I don’t know why I assumed that he might not be opposed to the idea of shaking my hand.

He narrows his eyes. “How did Mage discover you?”

“I went off in front of him by accident,” I say slowly. It’s still hard to recall what happened that day. “A few days later he came again and said I have powers that need to be developed and invited me to Watford.”

The whole scene flashes before my eyes. Last summer Mage stayed in my foster’s inn. He was travelling with the best scholars to some seminar and back. That’s when August started picking on me. He called me “worthless servant” and pushed me while Mage wasn’t watching. I fell down on the floor, the glasses I was carrying shattering.

Next few moments were a blur. There was a hit in my body and my ears were ringing. I don’t remember much apart from August falling down on the floor screaming and Mage’s shocked face. They went away that evening and my fosters gave me a beating. Back then I thought I deserved it. 

Magician lets go of the spoon and it falls into the bowl with a cling. “Interesting,” he says while looking at me as if I am some kind of scientific book he still needs to read. “Did you go off again since then?”

“No, not really,” I shake my head. “Maybe it was just an accident, I don’t think… I don’t think I have anything in me.”

Magician frowns. “They wouldn’t take you in without good reasons,” he says almost to himself. “They must have seen something at that time. But you can’t even cast the magickal sword of Warriors, can you?”

I squeeze my fists tight and shake my head again. “I told you,” I say. “I don’t think I have anything in me.”

Magician stands up, “Wait here.” He says.

When he comes back there is a new tray in his hands and he casts a spell so swiftly I don’t even have a chance to see when it happens. Next moment the tray has not one, but three dishes on it — roasted beef, mashed potatoes and a huge piece of meat pie.

“You have to eat something too,” Magician says.

“Thank you,” I stare at food with astonishment. “But how- How many tokens did you use?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just eat.”

“Be careful, I might get used to it.” The cold inside me gradually melts away and I give him a grin.

Magician raises his eyebrow. “Get used to free food?”

“To you being nice to me.”

I catch him off guard again and he looks at me startled.

“Don’t talk nonsense,” he shakes his head finally, his expression getting darker. “I am not nice.”

I keep on grinning at him. Of course, he is, and I think I gradually start to fall for him more and more. I like how easy it is to make him blush, I like his witty retorts and the way he rubs the base of his nose as if his spectacles are still there. I even like how serious he is, but there is a dark shadow in his eyes, that I wish I knew how to chase away.

“Stop staring at me.” He snaps, pushing the food on the tray closer to me.

“Does your family live far from here?” I ask, trying to hide my eagerness to know more about his life.

“Not far enough.” He snaps.

“Are they that bad?”

“Not bad...” Magician reluctantly says while I demolish the pie, trying to absorb the smallest piece of information he shares about himself. “They are just… _Family_.”

I look away. I am not sure I know what family means exactly. 

The Magician notices my confusion and adds hurriedly. “Anyway, my aunt is pretty nice. My first year at Watford we used to exchange letters every few days. And wherever it felt like things were getting too dark on my side she would always come to visit me.”

I nod. I wish I had someone like that. Someone to talk to when things are getting too dark. “How bad was it?” I ask carefully.

“Usual things. Getting used to the new environment. Trying to avoid Warriors as they were constantly trying to remind us that Magicians are somehow less, just because we need to read books and study. Later it changed, but it wasn’t easy the first year. Especially for someone like me.” He says and I wonder if it was because his magic was always weaker than others. But I don’t dare to ask. I comment on the other part instead.

“That doesn’t make any sense. Your Faculty is so much more fascinating than ours.”

“Some people need to fight wars and some need to stay at the library. I just happen to be the second type.” He says with a grim expression.

“Yeah,” I agree, “Of course, we are different. But there is a reason they put us together under the same roof.” Magician’s cheeks turn slightly red.

“That is quite obvious.” He says sarcastically. “They put us together because they want us to mate. Isn’t it ironic? I have to study magic just to help some Warrior to swing his sword better.”

I feel a sting somewhere under my ribs. “You don’t believe in Familiars?”

“I don’t even know anymore.” He says distantly. Then he shifts, looking at me with alarm and stands up. He puts his spectacles back on and starts picking up his books. “Are you leaving already?” I say with a quiet voice trying to hide my disappointment away.

For the moment Magician freezes. “If you’ll need anything, I am at the library each day before and after classes.” He says, staring at one of his books. His voice flat and indifferent. “But don’t come without a good reason. I am busy studying.” He shuts the book with a loud thud. 

“I- Yes.” I stumble. “Thank you for the food!” I say to his back, watching him leave.

I should definitely find where this library is because if you think about it carefully it definitely _was_ an invitation. I just need to find a good reason to go there and see him again.

***

Next day on the training I am surprised to see that I am not the only one bullied by August. The kid I was fencing with together a few times before stands surrounded by August’s gang. Based on how dusty his tunic looks like and that there is a smudge of dirt on his cheek he’s just been on the ground.

I don’t know much about him, apart from the fact that he doesn’t belong to August’s gang since he stays aside from everybody else and even though we never talked much before, I know he never tried to make fun of me or hurt me. 

I push throw and stand by his side. “What’s happening?” I say, gazing directly at August. 

“Look, your Normal friend came to the rescue. How sweet.” I pull out my sword, but August just smirks. “Haven’t you figured out already that this thing is useless?”

Of course, my pitiful metal sword cannot compare to the magickal one. But at least I can block a stroke or two and sometimes even that is better than nothing.

My attempt at confrontation flushes fury in his eyes and we both know if he will attack me with his magickal sword, eventually, as many times before, I will end up defeated. But this time August doesn’t bother, Mage is finally back and since he doesn’t want any troubles he decides to maintain the appearance of good behaviour today.

“One more time like this,” he says. “And both of you will face my Familiar.”

“Stop hiding behind your Familiar,” I say.

“Hide?” August smirks. “We have a magickal bond, but what you, a Normal, can know about that?”

The other guy tags me on my elbow and I take a step back. Maybe it’s for the best. August turns around and leaves, his gang following him away too, dedicated minions as they are. I and the other person stay alone.

The guy turns around, reaching out his hand, his face is still slightly pale. “My name is Shepard,” he says, “Thanks for helping.”

“Simon Snow,” I shake his hand, “And I don’t think I was much help.”

Shepard smiles, his handshake firm, “You made them leave. August cast a spell on me to stop my magic flow and I couldn’t get my sword. So I was pretty much helpless.”

“Why did you fight with them?”

Shepard sits on the grass, hugging his knees. “I didn’t fight with them, I am not that stupid.” He gives me a side-glance. “I am new here too, you know. I was only transferred here last year. So he assumed that we are forming an alliance or something.”

I sit on the grass near him. “You and me? We never even properly talked before.”

Shepard sighs. “Yeah, I know. Sorry about that. They said I shouldn’t talk to you, or-” He shakes his head. “That’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” I say. “August is an arse.”

“You know,” he says without his usual cheerfulness and as poorly as I know him it’s still weird to see him as grim as that. “At some point, I thought we can all just be friends.”

I dug my nails into the soil. Did I hope for something similar? I can’t even remember anymore. Now my dreams about fitting in seem as far as they can be. I remember worrying that I didn’t belong. That feeling hasn’t gotten away — only got stronger...

After a while, I ask. “How could August stop your magic flow? I thought he can’t cast spells that well.”

“That’s his Familiar,” Shepard says. “He gives him magickal talismans that August can use on others.” He stares in front of himself, his face dark.

I look at the blue sky, trying to get myself distracted. “No matter how bad he is, he can’t be worse than August,” I say finally.

“You don’t know anything. Last year they were threatening everyone. His Familiar only started to get into dark spells. They were experimenting with those mostly on people August didn’t like. Bringing them to the Wavering woods, casting dark magic… They say his Familiar is able to cast a spell to destroy someone’s magic completely.” Shepard shivers. I don’t think I ever saw him like that. Usually, he is calm and bright. Now he absently tries to rub away the smudge of dirt from his face, but it only gets worse.

“Is he really a dark magician?” I ask with a frown. “I thought it’s forbidden at Watford.”

“Well, he is from the old magickal family and his aunt is head of the Magickal Faculty feared by everyone. That means he is allowed to do _anything_.”

“What about Mage?”

“They _are_ the old Family. There is nothing Mage can do.”

That sounds bad. But probably exactly how Watford is in reality. Back when I was just a commoner I thought Watford is a beautiful place full of magic and adventures, now when I am here I see that it’s full of pain and injustice. Even if his aunt is a teacher how can she keep a blind eye on her students practising dark magic? Does it mean she encourages them to do so?

I immediately think about _my_ Magician. I feel slightly worried, but I hope he is kind and strong enough to resist any dark influence. 

“Did you ever see August’s Familiar?” I ask and Shepard nods.

“Yeah, once August brought him along to our class. To scare everybody off. He just stayed in the corner while August was talking. He isn’t much — pale and thin. Everyone knows August only uses him for his magickal powers.”

We stay silent for a little bit. “I am not afraid of them,” I say finally.

Shepard grins. He stands up and wipes his hand over his pants. “You are kind of cool, you know. Thank you for standing by my side today. And sorry that I didn’t talk to you much before. I can help you with fencing and anything else you need.”

I shake my head. “You need to be careful. August will pick on you if he will see us hanging out.”

“Do you know why August hates you so much?” Shepard says. “It’s because you are brave and you are different and you have nothing to lose. He didn’t find your weak spot yet. But he will try to.”

I think about my Magician. If it’s true what’s Shepard saying I should try to keep my distance away from him. I should try to protect him. It feels weird to know that I have somebody to protect now.

Shepard stares somewhere in the distance and says almost to himself. “I feel since you are here everything will be different soon.”

I look at him as if he is a lunatic. Maybe he is. But I’ve met my Magician and I’ve met him, even if it’s not a hope, at least it’s something to hold on to. Or I will just choose to believe that it is. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan it as a longer story, so it progresses quite slow. Please bear with me! And thank you for reading <3

I start to run early in the mornings. I was too lazy and unmotivated before, but now it’s different. Now I have a plan. My route goes along the river and I pass the library everyday. First, nothing happens, I am either too early or too late. Only a week later I finally see Magician walking down the road in front of me. Of course, he is here so damn early.

I greet him from afar and he turns around startled, then he frowns slightly. “What are you doing here?” He asks.

“Morning...Exercise,” I say panting, noticing as his eyes travel over me from tip to toes. I have only a tunic and light breeches on (obviously there’s no point to wear a robe when you are running). 

“Since when?” Magician asks arching his eyebrow sceptically. “Have you finally decided to impress the Mage?”

I shake my head while feeling my cheeks turning slightly hot. Because it’s obviously not Mage I am trying to impress, but somebody else, somebody who is hurrying to the library at six in the morning.

Magician shifts the stack of books from one hand to another staring at me impatiently. (Why is he always carrying books in his _hands_?)

“Are you going to the library?” I ask. “Can I help?”

I reach for his books, but he takes a step back, his shoulders tensed. “I don’t need anybody’s help,” He says, looking at me agitatedly.

I take a step back too. “Sorry,” I say. “Of course, you don’t.” I wonder what happened to him before that made him react that way when people propose their help. And then it strikes me — maybe it’s not about _other_ people, maybe he doesn’t want any help from _me_. Maybe he doesn’t want to see me at all.

“Snow,” he says, examining me closer, his voice getting milder, “Why are you here so early?”

I urgently look for any excuse inside my head and fail miserably. “You said it yourself, I can come if I need some help.”

Magician narrows his eyes. “Do you? What can _I_ help you with?”

I don’t have any idea what to say. I came here dramatically unprepared because somehow I assumed he would be happy to see me. Instead, he stands there, his face unmoved and it’s too late for me to remember about the infinite abyss that lays between us.

“Can you teach me some spells?” I mumble in panic the first excuse that comes to my head. 

He looks at me blankly and tilts his chin up. “Snow,” he says, “I am not your bloody teacher.”

I clench my fists tightly. Of course, I expected something along those lines. Who am I, after all, to ask him to teach me anything.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say quickly. I am not here to _use_ him for his magic. I am here because I wanted to see him again. So much that now, when he is finally here I have no idea what to say to keep him here with me for longer. “Can you show me more of your magickal tricks?” I ask.

“Magickal _tricks_?” He almost spits out. “Who do you think I am? Some kind of circus clown?” But he still takes out his wand and points it at me.

“ ** _I woke up like this_** ,” I feel his spell touch my hair and there is a warm feeling on the top of my head.

“Merlin, what is that?” I say startled. When I touch my hair it feels silky and smooth and after I mess it up with my hand it surprisingly still goes back to order.

Magician grins, “Just fixing your hair. Is it enough of a magickal _trick_ for you?”

His eye behind spectacles are of the same grey colour, but now they look warmer. I am happy to see he doesn’t look so tense anymore. “Now, if you excuse me, I have some studying to do.” He turns around and leaves before I have a chance to say something in return, but my hair stays smooth even overnight and each time I pull my hand through I am reminded of how his magic feels.

Fortunately, I bump into him “by accident” a few times more and it becomes harder and harder to convince him that I am running here only because of the beautiful river scenery.

I don’t ask him for magic anymore, after all, it’s not why I come here to see him day after day. I ask him about his family instead, about his home and even though he is reluctant to talk about himself I still get some impression about how his life must be. Of course, he leaves in a fucking _mansion_ and his family has a long line of Magicians all studying at Watford. He likes his aunt the most and avoids talking about his father. His mother passed away a long time ago and when he mentions her he tries to pretend that this is far in the past. But after spending more time together I find it easier to read all his smaller expressions, — I can see there is still a pain in his eyes even though he tries to hide it away.

None of our talks lasts for a long time though. At least I try to convince myself that each time he seems less and less reserved and sometimes he even looks as if he was expecting that I will show up, but other times I am still afraid that he will tell me to go away. After all, I still don't even know what his name is.

In the third week, it’s him who is waiting for me near the library as I run by. He waves his hand at me as I look around startled, expecting that he is waiting for somebody else. But there are only him and me and when I run closer I notice that this time he doesn’t have any books in his hands.

“Don’t you have to study today?” I frown.

“We had a test yesterday, so I can take a break. Here,” He takes out a sweet roll from his pouch and passes one to me. “This is for you,” he says, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

I hesitate, looking at the roll stunned. Did he really buy it for _me_? When I finally take it from his hands, I am not careful enough — our fingers slightly brush and he snatches his hand away.

I pretend I didn’t see his startled move. Of course he doesn’t like to be touched by someone like me. Someone with no connections or power. Someone without family. I dig my nails into my palm.

“Why are you here?” I ask finally. If he doesn’t have to study he shouldn’t be here at all at six in the morning.

He adjusts his spectacles nervously and looks somewhere over my head. “You said before, that you want me to teach you some magic. I can do it. Today. If you haven’t given up yet.”

I freeze with the roll halfway to my mouth. Learning magic was just an excuse. I never thought he would really assume that’s why I stalk him almost daily near the library. Moreover, I never expected him to actually agree. But if a stupid excuse can give us a chance to spend more time together, then I will be damned to refuse.

“I haven’t given up,” I say. 

Magician nods, “That’s what I thought.”

I follow him into the library and when we enter I freeze in the middle of the hall, my mouth slightly open. The morning light shines through the dusty windows and I tilt my head up, staring onto the high ceilings painted with trees and clouds. Did I really forget how magickal everything about Watford is? Was I too focused on only the bad things?

“Haven’t you been here before?” I hear his voice, but I just shake my head. I didn’t know if I could even enter without a special token or spell, if they would even let me in. No matter how much time I spent at Watford, I still feel like a Normal, who is here just by mistake.

He waits patiently until I finally put myself together and follow him further. We pass a long hall with rows and rows of shelves and reach the reading room full of long tables with almost nobody inside.

“Are you always here so early?” I bite the roll on the way. Merlin, it tastes good. I wonder where one can get a fancy pastry like that so early in the morning. But maybe in his mansion, he has a whole room of servants ready to cook him food at any time.

“I don’t like when there are people around. And it will be easier this way if you...” He stumbles, “if you’ll make a mistake.”

“If I fail,” I correct him. Suddenly the taste of roll is not that sweet anymore.

Magician looks at me seriously. “You won’t fail.”

I finish the roll and put my elbows on the table. “What should we start with?”

He bites on his lower lip and adjusts his spectacles again. “Look inside yourself and find a core,” He says seriously, but I almost snort. I looked inside myself a million times before. There is really nothing there.

Still, I close my eyes and try to imagine _the core_. In my mind, it looks like a gold sphere that shines. I am sure he has one like that inside.

“Will you tell me your name eventually?” I ask without opening my eyes. 

The pause that follows is long enough for me to examine my insides ten times and conclude that there is definitely nothing there. Well except, for my heart that beats like crazy over my rib cage. “I give up,” I say and open my eyes.

Magician frowns. I know I disappoint him, after all, it’s nothing new. I disappoint everyone.

“It takes one year for warriors to learn how to cast a magickal sword,” He says. “You still have time.”

I shake my head. We both know I don’t have one year. I will be out of Watford before the first snow.

“Here,” Magician puts his hand on the table, palm up. The tips of his fingers are still covered with ink. “You can pull my magic.”

I squeeze my teeth. “What do you mean, _pull_?” I say, feeling stupid. A few magicians walk inside the library and he patiently waits for them to pass by.

“Just take my hand and _pull_.”

I never even knew that it’s possible to pull someone’s magic away. Is it dangerous? Can I hurt him by accident?

“Will you be ok?” I ask, but Magician just nods impatiently.

My chest tightens as I put my hand on his wrist. Maybe it’s a usual thing. Maybe it’s nothing big. But something inside of me screams that it shouldn’t be that easy — just to give your magic away. Especially for him, I always thought he’s not that strong and doesn’t have that much magic to give.

First, nothing happens. I don’t feel anything, except for his hot pulse beating under my fingers. 

“Take my hand properly-” He starts, but a moment later he is interrupted by the burning feeling is the place where our skin touches. Something is happening. I can feel his core somewhere there. And I was wrong it’s not like a sphere, it’s like a flow of silver — bright and hot. But I don't want to pull, I don’t want to take something so precious away. I just dwell on his magic and eventually it helps me to discover something inside of me too. Something I was always too scared to admit that I have.

I end up snatching my hand away and Magician looks at me with a frown. “Why didn’t you pull?” He asks crossly.

I stare at my hand, one dreadful thought at the back of my mind. “Do you often do this?” I ask. “I mean, do you often let others pull your magic away?”

He looks at me heavily as if this topic lays far outside the things that we are allowed to discuss. “I used to,” he finally says, his face turns dark.

Somebody was taking his magic away. Probably against his will. I feel myself clenching my fists tighter. “But how- Why? I didn’t even know it’s possible-”

“It’s possible, but only if I will allow it.” He says, avoiding looking my way. That means he was allowing that person to do so. That means they were close enough.

“Was it- Was it your boyfriend?”

Magician shakes his head, then he says, his voice bitter. “I used to think so. I am not sure anymore.”

Did they break up? If he is not sure they are boyfriends can it count as a real relationship? I never saw that person by his side, not in the library, not in the dinner. Whoever that might be he definitely deserves someone better.

I feel my heart beating fast with a tiny ray of hope inside of me. Finally I break the pause. “I didn’t pull your magic because I already discovered something inside of me.” I say. “And because I didn’t want to take anything away from you.”

Something flickers behind his eyes, but it goes away before I have a chance to understand what it is. “Did you feel your magickal core?” He says, piercing me with his eyes. “Can you try one more time? You need to push it outside of yourself and form into a sword.”

I close my eyes again. But without his pulse under my fingers I can’t feel anything anymore. The silver flow is just a distant memory that I can’t gather enough to feel again.

“Keeping your eyes close, won’t help.” Magician says with annoyance. “Stand up and move your hand as if you are pushing out the flow.”

I do as he says and perform a few clumsy moves with my hand the same way as I saw other Warriors do when they cast their sword. Of course, nothing happens and I feel myself more and more stupid. Meanwhile, the library starts to get busy. New students arrive and they shoot surprised looks in my direction as if guessing why am I standing there making a fool of myself.

“It doesn’t work,” I hiss through my clenched teeth.

Somewhere behind me Magician stands up and his chair creaks. He takes a few steps, putting his hand on my arm.

“I will show you the right move-” He starts, but immediately, his touch goes like a shock through me. Somewhere in the middle of the sway of my arm I feel magic inside me again. The flow shoots through the tips of my fingers, but instead of forming the sword, it goes uncontrolled outside in one powerful wave that crushes over the opposite side on a bookshelf, knocking it down and sending a bunch of the books to the floor.

After the loud thud, the library hall falls into silence. People stare at us from across the room. Magician takes a step back and my arm, where his hand was touching just a moment ago, stays bare and hot. I turn around and our eyes meet. We both breath heavily and he looks the same way as I am — stunned.

“Is it how you went off that first time?” He asks, frowning. 

“Not exactly...” The first time when I lashed out in front of Mage and August is just a blank space in my memories. That’s why it always felt like it almost never happened. But this time… It was completely different. Every detail of his touch still pulses inside of my head. “Did you- Did you push magic inside of me?” I ask in a low voice.

“No, Snow, I didn’t push my magic inside of you. I think you made it pretty clear that you are not interested.”

“It’s not like that-” I start, but I stumble. I don't want to be like _that_ other person. The one who was pulling his magic away. I don’t want him to allow me to be that.

Magician shrugs. “Whatever, Snow. It wasn’t me anyway.” He turns away, trying to hide his confusion and points his wand at the broken shelve. If it wasn’t him, then how was I able to send my magic out? Will I be able to do it again when I’ll have to? And even more important, will I eventually manage to summon the magickal sword?

He casts a repair spell and puts all the books back into order. The room looks like nothing happened, but a few students still stare my way.

“Basilton!” Some girl in pink glasses and with purple hair rushes our way. “What happened? Are you okay?”

I blink at Magician a few times. “Basilton?” I say stunned. Magician scolds me and turns to the girls with pink hair.

“We are quite fine, thank you, Penelope. And there is no need to use my full name on any occasion you find useful.”

“I would call you Baz, but you never let me do that.” The girl — Penelope, grins. “Who is your friend?” She looks me up and down with interest, while I try to register the fact that now I know two of Magicians names, both long and short.

“He. Is. Not. My. Friend.” He says, while I extend my hand to Penelope.

“Simon Snow,” I introduce myself. 

“Penelope Bunce,” she says in return and shakes my hand firmly. “How did you end up racking the bookshelf? I never saw a Warrior sending out a magickal spell like that. Unless...” She stops looking reluctantly at Magician — at Baz.

“Unless what?” I ask with caution. My heart skips a bit. Can it be that she means, unless a _Familiar was helping me_? I know it’s ridiculous to let my thoughts even go there, but at the same time I can’t stop wondering. Penelope opens her mouth to answer, but Baz says much quicker, “I was just helping him to learn how to cast his magickal sword.”

“You don’t know how to cast a magickal sword?” Penelope asks me in surprise. “Simon Snow… Simon Snow…” She mumbles, then her face brightens up. “Are you the new Warrior that Mage discovered?”

I nod and she almost jumps up with excitement. “So this was your first time trying the magic out? And _Baz_ was helping you?” She looks between him and me with a puzzled expression. 

“He is really good.” I say, carefully looking at Baz, but his face stays cold and distant.

“Of course he is!” Penelope says. “He is-”

“Thank you Penelope,” Baz interrupts her abruptly. “I hope your curiosity is satisfied and you can observe that your help is not needed.”

She flashes a grin again. “Actually my curiosity is far from satisfied. How long have you known each other? How did you two meet? Merlin and Morgana, how did you get Baz to help you?”

“I am leaving.” Baz stands up, ignoring Penelope completely. I smile her way apologetically.

“Practice more.” He tells me, before walking out, leaving me and Penelope behind.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” she says, once Baz is far away, her voice cheerful. “He has been moody lately.”

“Moody?” I ask and then add with satisfaction. “Isn’t it his usual state?”

Penelope laughs. “Simon Snow! Who would have guessed that you are not only handsome, but also funny?” She gives me an examining look. “I have no idea how it happened, but I am glad that he met you.”

I feel my cheeks blushing slightly. “Why?”

She shrugs. “Apparently he needs friends too.”

“Aren’t you his friend?”

“Me?” she snorts, “Of course not! We just take the same classes together.”

“So you are a Magician.”

“I am.” She nods. “And you are a Warrior. Never saw Warriors in the library before.”

“Well...” I take a pause, guessing there is no need trying to hide it. “I only came because Baz invited me here.”

“Did he?” Penelope says with interest. “Well, good for him.” She gives me another long stare. “Just give him a chance, he is- he is pretty special.”

“In what way?” I ask, even though I have a few ideas of my own on how special Magician — Baz is. But Penelope just smiles whirly.

“It’s better if he explains himself. When it comes to him- Promise me, you won’t believe everything that your eyes see.”

I look at her confused. I believe I know Baz well enough. I can see how kind he is. And even if sometimes he hides behind a facade of indifference, nothing can ever happen that will make me see him in a different way from how he is.


	4. Chapter 4

Next day on the training the Mage is not there and August is even worse than usual. When we fence with Shepard he comes out of nowhere and pushes Shepard with his shoulder. Shepard trips, while barely keeping his balance and takes a step back.

“Get lost,” August says to him, then turns my way. “We have some business to finish, you and me, now that you can’t hide behind Mage’s back.”

He looks annoyed, more annoyed than usual if you ask me. Lately, even his friends are afraid to approach him. Shepard sways my way, but I stop him with a movement of my hand. It’s better to keep it between me and August.

“Opposite from you I have never hidden behind other people’s back,” I say, glaring at him.

“That’s true,” August nods, “because you have nobody to hide behind.” He isn’t even bothered to cast his sword this time, he just stands there and smirks. “Tell us Snow, how it is to know that you never were interesting enough for anybody to keep you near.”

The anger strokes after the short jolt of pain, it pulses somewhere in the back of my head, but this time it’s too distant to control me. After all, it’s just something that August says.

I throw my metal sword on the ground and turn back to him. August grins, “Does it mean you are ready to give up? How boring.”

I close my eyes and remember the hot silver of Magician’s core under my fingers. I look for the same thing inside of myself. I know it’s there, it has to be. However small it might be, I still need to find it. I remember his touch again and try to imagine that he is here, standing behind me. I grasp the energy and sway my hand the same as I did before.

The magic goes through my arm and shots through the tip of my fingers and before I open my eyes I hear a loud thud. August screams and then moans and for a moment I am afraid I’ve done something terrible.

He curls on the ground, covering his stomach with his hands, his long blond hair covered with dirt. Eventually, he pulls himself up and leans on a tree. His nose bleeds and a few drops of blood fall to the ground.

Shepard rushes his way and squads on the ground near him, “August,” he says with alarm. “Are you okay?”

He squeezes August’s shoulder, but August just shakes his hand away. He glares at me, then wipes blood with his sleeve, his hand slightly shaking. 

“Where-” He says and his eyes a blood-shot with anger. “Where have you learned a trick like that?”

A few people rush our way, their swords shine like a blister, but August stops them with one move of his hand. I guess I could lie, but I don’t want to. I straighten my shoulders and take a step forward. “A magician taught me.”

People around us start to whisper, but August just throws his head back and laughs.

Gradually his laughter trails off. “What kind of a magician will talk to a speck of dirt like you?” He says, his nostrils widen with anger.

“August relax,” one of his minions says, “The Normal is obviously lying.”

“Who is he?” August repeats, his eyes piercing through me. He pushes himself up, still leaning on the trunk of the tree. Shepard tries to help him, but August just impatiently pushes him away.

We glare at one another, finally, he gives me a smirk and something inside of me goes cold. “You know I will find out anyway.”

A foreboding feeling crawls over my spine. Too late I understand how easy it must be for August to find out. He has a Familiar who can spy on other magicians, who can torture them with dark spells, who will do whatever August will order him to do. For a moment I feel helpless.

My feelings are all too visible on my face because August’s smirk transforms into a satisfactory grin. “You can try to protect yourself with your pity tricks, that some loser taught you, but they won’t let you last for a long time.”

“You are so dead, Snow.” Someone says in the crowd, but Shepard already tags me on my sleeve and I take a step back. We push through the crowd, but August’s laugh still rings in my ears.

“That magic spell that you’ve done — it was pretty impressive,” Shepard says, once we step out of the Hall of Swords. I know he tries to cheer me up, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I lean on a balustrade, my breath unsteady, the cold sweat still crawling down my back.

“August is just angry because he is off with his Familiar.” Shepard continues, “Don’t take seriously everything that he says.”

I give Shepard a surprised glare. “How do you know that?”

Shepard shrugs, “Nobody knows for sure, but people talk.”

I stare at the Hall of Swords. Even if it’s true and August has troubles with his Familiar, I couldn’t care less. It doesn’t mean that my Magician — Baz, is out of danger. 

“I need to go find someone.” I push myself off a balustrade.

Shepard nods, “It’s a good idea. It’s better if your friend is prepared.” He makes a pause. “You know, just in case.”

“You need to be careful too.” I say to Shepard, “you shouldn’t have dragged me out of there.”

“Don’t worry about me. August is too busy bulling you to think about anything else. Go, find your friend, I’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” I throw over my shoulder, before rushing away.

I run through the library first, then through the dining hall, but I can’t find Baz anywhere. Finally, as I sit down at the table to catch my breath, somebody taps me over the shoulder.

“Simon Snow,” a cheerful voice says over my ear, and when I turn around I see Penelope Bunce. Her hair is green today and she tags a strand behind her ear while winking at me. “Are you skipping classes?”

I look around the dining hall, finally noticing that there are only a few people inside, to be more precise there is almost nobody there, except for me and her. “I was looking for Baz,” I say and stare at her hesitantly. “Do you know where he is?”

“Baz already left,” Penelope says. “We have Magickal Theory now and our teacher is very fierce.”

“Then why are you here?”

Penelope smirks, “I am just running late because I wanted to have a quick snack.” Only then I notice a piece of honey bread in her hand. “But you are right, I should be on my way too.”

“Wait,” I say standing up, “Can you take me there?”

Penelope frowns, “Why? Don’t you have your own classes to go?”

“I have an urgent matter to converse with Baz,” I try to say it as decisively as possible.

“Urgent matter?” Penelope pushes me with her elbow. “Do you miss him already, huh?”

I feel my cheeks burning and I look down, but Penelope just laughs. “Fine. I will take you there, you might have a few minutes before Fiona will show up.”

“Who is Fiona?” I follow Penelope out of the dining hall and through the field.

She finishes her honey bread on the go, and throws to me over her shoulder without turning around, “You don’t know? Fiona- Well, miss Pitch, she is our teacher.”

“You call a teacher by her first name?”

“Only behind her back.” She grins but doesn’t say anything else, rushing forward like the wind. In the end, we almost run and when we finally reach the group of magicians standing in the middle of the open field I am completely out of breath.

“We have an open-air class today,” Penelope explains, somehow her breath is almost even (opposite from mine). “Wait here, I will call for Baz, it shouldn’t take long.”

I wait a bit aside until Baz finally separates from the crowd and jogs my way. When he stops in front of me he doesn’t look happy. “Snow,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

Even though he frowns from behind his spectacles, seeing his face makes me feel relieved for the first time in a while. “You need-” I stumble on my words being out of breath, “You need to be careful from now on! I hit- I hit August with the spell you taught me. And he said he will find out who you are and-”

“You did _what?_ ” I think this is the first time I see emotions on his face so clearly.

“August won’t hurt you himself, obviously, because you are a magician. But he has a scum Familiar, who practices dark magic and he does everything that August tells him to do-” Baz takes a step back, his face going pale.

“A scum Familiar, who practices dark magic?” He repeats his voice tensed.

I nod. His face is so white, I think he should know who exactly I am talking about. “I am sorry,” I say, hanging my head low. “You might get into trouble because of me. I can stay with you through the classes, just in case-”

“You _can't_ stay with me through the classes,” Baz says through his clenched teeth. “Don’t be ridiculous, Snow.”

“But you and me-”

“There is no you and me, don’t flatter yourself.”

I swallow it because of course, he is right. “Can you cast a protective charm on yourself?” I ask, “Or something similar? August’s Familiar-”

“Go to the library,” Baz interrupts me. His face is a stone now. “Don’t do anything. Wait for me there.”

“But-” I start.

“ _Go_.”

He rushes away back to the crowd of magicians and I look his way helplessly.

“Be careful,” I throw at his back, but he is too far away to hear me anyway.

Eventually, I make myself go to the library, but it is too early. The classes are not finished yet, and I might go insane if I will just stay in the library for hours with nothing to do. I end up spending the rest of the day on the river shore throwing stones into the water.

I want to see Baz. I want him safe.

When the sun starts to settle down I go back to the library. There are a few magicians in there. That means their classes are over. When I sit at the table they glare at me with suspicion. I try to shrink myself to take as little space as possible.

I grab the nearest book and flip through the pages. It’s full of weird diagrams and symbols that I don’t understand at all. Baz must be really smart to read books like that. 

Of course, he is smart. Being in the library without him makes me miss him even more. 

I wait and wait, but he doesn’t show up. A cripples fear settles in my insides as I stare for the same page of a book for what feels like an eternity. 

It’s getting dark outside and the remains of students start to leave one by one. I am hopeless enough to stay until the librarian himself sends me off.

When I step out of the library, the darkness falls all around me. I go along a narrow path and when I turn around a corner there are two dark figures lingering on my way. My eyes still haven’t adapted to the darkness and I can’t see very well.

But I don’t have to wonder for long.

Soon August’s voice cuts the darkness. “Simon Snow,” he says. “Finally here.”

The moon goes out the clouds, lying a silver light on two figures below. I catch my breath. The second person is Baz and August is holding his wrist with his hand.

“Let him go!” I shout, but August just smirks.

“Why would I need to let go of my Familiar?” he asks.

When I glare at Baz, things still don’t add up in my head. He stands there, his face pale, the wind blowing his hair. His eyes are black and empty, staring right at me.

“Baz!” I shout. “Are you alright?”

August laughs. “You know each other? How sweet. Then I will skip the introduction. And we can go straight to the fun part.”

His palm slips from Baz’s wrist to his hand and their fingers interlock. And then it strikes me — Baz doesn’t make any attempt to break free. His arm is limp, but his chin is tilted high. The wind is getting tighter and I understand that it doesn’t blow at him, it blows _from_ him.

Next moment August raises his hand, his lips moving, but the wind carries his words away.

His spell strikes me like a blow, spreading like a cold wave through my body and as I try to make a move I understand I don’t have any control over my body at all. This is some kind of a dark spell August have casted on me.

No warrior can have magic like that.

I look at his hand stunned. He has a wand. Baz’s wand.

How could he take his wand away? This is the toughest violation of magickal rules and even August is not crazy enough to do so… _Unless_.

Unless Baz gave him his wand himself.

Unless he is pulling the magic away from Baz and Baz allows him to do so.

Everything inside goes cold and I can’t tell anymore if it’s from the dark spell that August just casted of from me finally realizing something I should have realized a long time ago.

“I said you would meet my Familiar eventually and I kept my promise,” August says, as the wind settles down. He lets go of Baz’s hand as it’s something useless, but Baz just stands there still motionless.

So it was him, it was Baz all along.

I want to scream, I want to laugh from my own stupidity, but my mouth is glued shut. I can’t even talk. I pierce Baz with a stare. I still don’t understand how the person who I trusted the most turned out to be a dark scum magician everyone is afraid of.

“Let’s go,” August throws over his shoulder and turns around. He starts to walk and Baz follows him a few steps behind. They don’t look my way and for a moment I think they would just leave me there unmoving and helpless, but there is some force that pulls me as a hook in my stomach making me follow them along as a strained dog.

We go through Watford up to the West gates. The gates that lead to the Wavering Woods. As we pass them and step into the woods the moon hides behind the shadows of the trees. I follow August and Baz further and further. From time to time I trip over the roots and I fall, but the same force keeps pulling me up.

“Let’s leave him here,” Finally August stops under the huge oak trees. The hook in my insides disappears and the moment I am sane enough to think clearly again I look at two figures in front of me.

Ironically, my first instinct is to still check if Baz is alright. My brain can’t switch that easily. Baz glares at me too. His face is cold and distant. He doesn’t look like Baz I used to know anymore, he looks like somebody else.

“It’s a bit boring when he can’t speak, don’t you think?” August turns to Baz. Baz nodes slowly. 

August passes him his wand back. “Unmute him.”

I follow each movement that Baz makes. He doesn’t hesitate, not even once. But before he points his wand at me and casts a spell, I can see his hand slightly shaking.

His magic still feels like something warm even if I forbid myself to think about it like that anymore. A few moments later my jaw comes back to life together with a pain I’ve got from hitting the ground.

“How are you, Snow?” August says with a smirk. “I am sorry if we were not too gentle with you.”

I see Baz lowering his hand. He is still here. He is still a person I know. It can’t be the end.

“I don’t know what August has on you,” I say to Baz through the pain in my jaw. “But don’t let him pull your magic away. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Pull?” August raises his eyebrow. “Why do I need to pull if he will just cast any spell that I will tell him to?” 

He nods at Baz, “Basilton, will you?”

Baz lowers his head. “What do you want me to cast?”

“How about...” August rubs his chin. “How about a nightmare spell? It should be fun enough.”

“Sure,” Baz nods. When he glares at me the next moment, his eyes are indifferent. “It should be fun.”

“Why?” I ask helplessly. Deep down I still don’t believe that it’s true. I still hope there is an explanation. A reason. 

“Why what?” August says. “Why you were stupid enough to hit me with a spell this morning? Or why did you expect that I won’t hit you back?”

My eyes stay on Baz. I can’t make myself look away. “Why are you helping him?” I say, my voice almost breaking.

Baz shrugs. “Didn’t you hear it, Snow? He is my Familiar.”

August takes a step closer to Baz and puts his hand around his shoulders. “Aren’t you sweet, Basilton,” he says. But he doesn’t even look at Baz, he still looks at me.

“You can’t be his Familiar,” I growl. “His Familiar is evil. And you are not.”

“You don’t know me at all, Snow,” Baz drops, his expression cold. “You knew only what I pretended to be.”

I shake my head. “You don’t have to do it. You don’t have to follow his orders” I say. I hate how desperate my voice sounds.

“Of course he doesn’t _have to,_ ” August says sweetly. “He does it because he likes it. He likes helping me.” His hand slides from Baz’s shoulder to his waist and he pulls him closer.

I grit my teeth.

I feel the anger boiling inside of me.

“August’s Familiar is a scum! You are not like that!” I almost scream at Baz.

August drums his fingers on his chin. “Wait, how do you know one another again? Wasn’t Basilton nice enough to help you with a few magickal spells? And you are calling him a scum now? Naturally, Basilton is a bit disappointed.”

“Wait, no-” I say. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant, Snow.” Baz interrupts, “We both know what I really am.”

I look at him with desperation. “Do you just blindly believe everything that August says?”

“Everything that _I_ say?” August smirks. “Sometimes he comes up with his own ideas too. Like this nightmare spell, It was his own invention. The fifth year. Do you know how this spell works?” August grins. He gives Baz a small push, making him step forward. “You will have nightmares all night long, but no matter how scary they would be, you won’t be able to wake up.”

“Is this-” I swallow, “Is it dark magic?” I still look at Baz. His shoulders go into the straight line and he raises his hand.

“Of course, Snow,” Baz says. “What else can it be?”

That is the last thing I hear before he casts a spell. Something strikes me and my body falls on the ground. And then there is darkness. But even darkness is better than what follows next.


	5. Chapter 5

Baz

“It was you who taught a Normal this spell,” August catches my wrist and twists my arm. “Why?”

It’s not painful, not really because August never takes it too far. He is too smart for that. We are not in our first year anymore and now I am much stronger. But still, he knows he can go till this point, he knows that I would let him.

“Because I was bored?” I manage to state it as a question. I know he hates questions.

We stand in front of the library, where I promised Snow I would pick him up. Too bad I met August first. But then I shouldn’t be surprised. He always knows about everything. I wonder why it took him so long to find out about Snow.

He steps behind my back twisting my arm harder. “I know you were seeing him,” he hisses at me.

“I am not seeing anybody,” I say flatly, “I was just studying in the library and he was following me around.”

I am surprised at how accurate and boring that sounds.

August laughs, it’s his cold kind of laugh. “Of course, this loser was just using you to learn some magic tricks. But you are _my_ Familiar. I am the only one who is allowed to use you.”

August lets my arm go and I turn around facing him. Of course, I know that. I don’t have any illusions left on why exactly Snow follows me around. And another thing I know really well is that Snow would have never approached me if he knew who I really am.

“The loser cast a spell on me. And now he needs to be punished.”

“Punished?” I try to ask it as indifferently as I can.

August takes me by my chin and tilts my head up. “Don’t flatter yourself even for a moment that it wasn’t your fault.”

I feel tired. And ruined. Maybe it’s time for Snow to learn who I really am. This illusion of our friendship was going on for far too long.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask. 

“You would help me,” August says. He takes my hand. “Like the old times.”

I shudder. His hand is warm and his touch is almost gentle. _Like the old times._ I know too well what it means. All the memories are still there. Of all the things that we’ve done. Of all the things he made me do. I don’t even have to nod, it goes without saying that I agree. I am his Familiar. I have to.

The tips of my fingers are covered in ink, August looks at them with a frown. “Go wash it out,” he says with disgust and drops my hand down.

***

When everything is over, August sends me to my rooms. I know if I want to save Snow, I have to be patient. I go inside and I wait for August to leave. It takes everything I have to keep calm and not run right back to the woods like the fool that I am.

Snow is there, alone, struggling with the nightmares that were cast by _me_. I stare through the window at the darkness outside, but the real darkness is not there, it’s inside of me. 

Yes, Snow was stupid enough not to recognize that right away. But those are his problems. He should have known better before getting involved with someone like me.

I wait till midnight. Finally, I sneak outside and head back to the Wavering Wood. I am calm and collected. Or at least I try to convince myself that I am. I even take a quilt with me, because the night is cool and crisp and I am afraid Snow might get cold.

It doesn’t take me long to find the oak where we left him. He’s lying on the ground, his face pale. Then out of nowhere, he starts to move chaotically, moaning as if he’s in pain. I drop on my knees next to him. I am not calm and collected anymore, not one bit.

My hand trembles when I take a wand and pull my spell back. It’s painful and Snow moans harder, his hand searching meaninglessly for something invisible on the ground.

I grab his hand and squeeze it hard. “Snow,” I whisper gently, “Wake up.”

He opens his eyes slowly, but they are blank and dark at first, there is only my own troubled face mirrored in them. I pull a quilt over him and help him to sit up. I try to lean him on the tree, but he sways to a side, somehow leaning on me instead.

Merlin and Morgana. I can feel his shivering body too close to mine.

“Where am I? Why is it so cold?” He almost sobs and I try to wrap him tighter into the quilt.

I don’t say anything, I just wait for his eyes to clear. The moment they do, he pushes me away.

Even though I was expecting anger, I didn’t expect the way his face would look. Like I betrayed him like I broke his heart into pieces like I took something precious away. But I have nobody to blame other than myself — I should have been prepared better that this day will eventually come. The day he will finally see how evil I really am.

Dull pain spreads inside of my chest. I didn’t know I will be stupid enough to get used to the way Snow was treating me. Like I mattered. Like I was worthy of his kindness.

He is scolding me now, clenching tighter into the quilt. His face is pale and his eyes are slightly wild. He is shivering and I can hear his teeth chatter.

I quickly push myself up and take my wand out. I cast a warming spell on Snow and his cheeks turn slightly pink.

“Stop casting your spells on me.” He matters without looking my way. But still, the spell works and he shivers less violently. _Good._

“Stop getting into troubles.” I snap back.

His eyes shot up and he glares right at me. “It was you! You left me in here!” He almost screams at first, but then his voice drops. “Why- Why did you do it?”

“Didn’t you say it yourself?” I ask, my shoulders stiff. “I am August’s scum Familiar, who practices dark magic.” It brings me satisfaction to repeat his own words back to him. The satisfaction of seeing his face break.

“I didn’t-” Snow starts, but then shakes his head. “Nevermind.” He leans back on a tree, half closing his eyes. “He doesn’t deserve you, you know.”

I stop breathing for a moment, my heart beating wild inside my own ears. “We are Familiars,” I say. I don’t think I should explain it further. Even to Snow. However unaware of everything he is.

Snow shakes his head slightly. “He cheats on you,” he says, his voice almost quiet, but still loud enough to make my heart beat faster.

I tilt my chin high. I know. Of course, I know that August is cheating.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say.

Not anymore. Because I have responsibilities. Because my family expects things from me. I am the best student of Magic and August is the best student of Martial Arts. We are Familiars and we have to be together.

“I thought we are friends,” Snow says absently, now he doesn’t even look my way.

_What a lie._ Not in the million years, someone as handsome as Snow could fall someone like me. I am neither pretty nor funny. It’s much easier to believe that he is just using me for my magic, the same way as August always does.

“I don’t have friends,” I say with a smirk.

“Then- What was it? Why were you helping me?” He pauses. “Why- why are you helping me now?”

The hope flashes behind his eyes. The hope I don’t deserve. The hope he shouldn’t have put into me.

“It’s an exchange,” I say. I make my voice sound indifferent. “I need you for my plan.”

“You need me?” Snow blinks looking confused (he is always confused). And then. “What plan?”

I take a deep breath in. I am not sure if what I say next will make any sense at all. “I will teach you how to cast the Magickal Sword and you would have to win over August in the Spring Tournament.”

I hope Snow knows what Spring Tournament is. I hope he understands what I am asking him here.

“You want me to win the tournament that defines who the best Warrior is?” He asks in disbelief. “That is impossible. I won’t make it that long in Watford. I will be expelled before the new year.”

“You won’t be expelled. Not if I will teach you.”

He narrows his eyes, “Is this another one of your tricks, so you and August can have a good laugh at my expense?”

I take a step back, “I don’t think you have a choice. You know I can just turn around and leave you here, don’t you?”

Snow’s face turns grim. He gives me a short glare.

“Why me?”

I sneer. If he thinks I can pick anybody from the rest of Warriors in Watford he is dramatically mistaking. Nobody really likes me here. Yes, they are afraid of me, of course, but they are afraid of August more.

But I have a better explanation for Snow. The one where I don’t have to reveal that somehow I believe he is the only person at Watford who is not afraid of August at all. “Because August despises you. Because if it will be you he will be completely destroyed.”

I know how crazy this plan sounds and I don’t think Snow will ever agree. Unless… Unless after everything that happened he hates August enough.

Snow stays silent for some time. “I will do it,” he says finally. “But wouldn’t- Wouldn’t that mean that we-”

“I am not interested in being your Familiar,” I interrupt him sharply. “Don’t get any ideas.” 

“Believe me,” he says with disdain, “I won’t.”

I know there is no trust left between us. Not after everything that I did. Snow can turn away easily and change his mind because I mean nothing to him.

“We need a magickal oath,” I say.

Snow frowns, “Why?”

“Because it’s a deal.” I say, “Give me your hand.”

Snow stands up spreading his arm forward. His wrist looks white under the moonlight. I take his hand in mine, and carefully point my wand at our hands.

“This is ridiculous.” Snow says. “I will never win. And the oath will destroy me.”

I don’t say, I believe that if there is anybody who can win over August it should be him. Because even in my heart it’s too vague and unexplainable — this faith I put in him. And I don’t want him to know that he might be my _only_ way out.

“I know everything about August,” I say instead. “All of his weak spots.”

“You hate him that much.” It sounds less like a question and more like a statement, but I just shake my head.

“I don’t hate him. I just want my freedom back.” I say as calmly as I can. At this point, I don’t have any hatred left. Well, except towards myself. But if you don’t have any feelings left — hatred is worth something.

I cast a spell and the magic burns through our hands. I tighten my grip, not letting Snow go.

“I will help you to cast a magickal sword and you will win a tournament,” I say, looking straight at him. “And we won’t be Familiars.”

“We won’t be Familiars,” Snow repeats and as always I believe him more than I believe myself.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://mybluebucketofsnow.tumblr.com/) :3


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